


The Art of Seduction

by Jenanigans1207



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining, But mostly porn, First Time, Fluff, I mean maybe some plot, I suck at tags, Love Confessions, M/M, NSFW, No Beta, Not beta'd we die like men, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Aziraphale, Seduction, Smut, Top Aziraphale, also i'm too impatient to wait for someone else to read it, and love confessions, aziraphale can be seductive too you know, because aziraphale is both of those in this, consistent verb tenses are for cowards, i just want to yeet it into the world, just know that this is soft and heartfelt, yes i meant to put both of those tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 03:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20382697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenanigans1207/pseuds/Jenanigans1207
Summary: All at once, Crowley is too hot. Aziraphale’s hand is still low on his thigh, but it’s migrating upwards. And it’s slotted between his two legs, firm against the inner thigh of his right leg and feather light against his left. He feels like he’s about to combust into hell’s flames on the spot, but he refuses to let it show. He’s spent 6000 years putting on a controlled front, he’s not about to let it crumble at the first touch from Aziraphale. “Angel, what are you doing?”It’s remarkable how steady his voice comes out. He almost achieves his normal nonchalance, in fact. But his lackluster response does nothing to deter Aziraphale, who grins almost wickedly in response, leaning closer again so Crowley can feel the breath of his words along his ear and neck. “You said I could choose anyone in this restaurant. So I’ve chosen you, dear boy.”“Me?” Crowley repeats in disbelief. As if Aziraphale’s hand that’s slowly working its way up his thigh isn’t proof enough. “You’re going to seduceme?Thedemon? The one who has been performing seductions for six-thousand years?”“I do believe that’s what I said, yes.” Aziraphale murmured in his ear, “Or were you a little too distracted to hear me?”





	The Art of Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, I guess my first fic in the Good Omens fandom is porn. *shrugs* You win some, you lose some. 
> 
> I posted the vague outline of this idea on twitter and everyone loved it and encouraged me to write it so here we are. I hope it's good as I'm relatively inexperienced at writing smut. Anyways, this is mostly just really soft lovemaking, flirting and love confessions. So I hope you guys enjoy!!!
> 
> Also, fuck verb tenses. As always I slip in between present and past tense and I just-- I'll forever struggle with that so I'm just gonna apologize for it.

In one day  _ everything _ had changed and  _ nothing _ had changed, simultaneously. If Crowley hadn’t personally been there to see the end of the world, to face it down alongside the others, he didn’t think he’d believe it happened. He still didn’t really believe it happened, even though he  _ had _ been there. After Satan himself had been defeated, Heaven and Hell had taken their swings. And now that they, too, were out of the picture life was…

** **

Well, normal.

** **

The only real difference between the time leading up to Armadidn’t and his life now was that he no longer had to do demonic things. Sure, he still inconvenienced some people here and there. It was a force of habit at this point. And old habits die hard, after all. Still, that was really the main difference. He had seen Aziraphale nearly every day but in the 11 years leading up to Armadidn’t, that had been pretty normal. A habit. And, again, old habits die hard.

** **

Not that Crowley wanted this particular habit to die.

** **

In fact, just the opposite. He wanted to cling to it— to hold Aziraphale as close as he possibly could. The future was both completely benign and utterly uncertain at the same time and all he knew for sure was that he had the moments he was currently living. And he had every intention of spending as many of those moments as he possibly could with Aziraphale. Which was how he found himself seated in the Ritz— not for the first time, certainly— with Aziraphale in the seat next to him, sipping on some particularly good wine.

** **

Aziraphale was sitting back in his chair, relaxed, hands folded delicately in his lap. He was smiling at Crowley, his eyes half-lidded in a way that only showed up when he was particularly content with a moment. It wasn’t a look Crowley had seen many times in the past and he cherished the way it was directed at him now. Aziraphale took in a deep, slow breath and then let it out all at once and somehow the tension seemed to dissolve further from his shoulders. It made Crowley feel relaxed. It made Crowley feel— dare he say it—  _ blessed _ to be living in this moment. To have a world to wake up to and an Angel to visit each new day. 

** **

Normally, he’d never let his contentedness show. He’d shove it down and hide behind his sunglasses, feigning an aloof attitude. Normally, he’d never let the following words slip past his lips. But maybe a few more things  _ had _ changed after all, and now, living in the days he wasn’t supposed to have, Crowley was a little looser, a little more comfortable saying what he thought. Also, the few glasses of wine might have helped. “Can you believe it?” When Aziraphale raised an eyebrow slightly, he clarified, “That we’re here, I mean. That we’re— _ still _ here.”

** **

Aziraphale hummed in response, “I guess it is rather extraordinary, isn’t it?”

** **

“We’ve been through so much, you and I.” And that was  _ definitely _ the wine talking. But Aziraphale was still smiling that private smile of his and leaning closer to Crowley so he didn’t stop himself. Didn’t find it in himself to feel self conscious at all. 

** **

“Centuries of memories,” Aziraphale agreed, and there was a flush to his cheek that could’ve been the wine. It mostly likely was the wine, really, but it was a delicious rosy color no matter the reason and Crowley drank it in, committing the way it looked to his memory.

** **

Crowley took another sip and didn’t even think twice about his next words. “Wonder if it was all part of the Ineffable Plan, you and I. I mean, how else did we keep meeting up over the years?”

** **

“Yes,” Aziraphale lifted his own glass, watching the liquid as he swirled it around inside. “I’ve wondered the same thing. What are the odds that we were assigned to the same location so many times?”

** **

“Yes, well, that’s why we made the arrangement.” Crowley replied mildy. The alcohol was trying to draw the words ‘ _ I’m glad we were _ ’ up, but he stamped those down. He might be more relaxed but he wasn’t  _ that _ relaxed. 

** **

“But that only worked sometimes, didn’t it, dear?” Aziraphale replied and suddenly there was an edge to his tone, a sharpened hint to his gaze that hadn’t been there a moment ago. The haze of alcohol seemed to have dissipated from his expression all at once. Crowley opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn’t sure what, so he took another drink instead and held Aziraphale’s eye contact. “Dear, don’t think I don’t know that there were assignments you didn’t trust me with.”

** **

“I—” Crowley startled in his seat, sitting up a little straighter. “Angel, the only assignments I didn’t share with you were seductions.”

** **

“Precisely,” Aziraphale said and he looked triumphant for a moment. As if he had somehow just trapped Crowley or revealed some big secret that Crowley had been spending centuries burying.

** **

“Yeah, precisely.” Crowley repeated, the confusion evident in his voice even to his own ears. “Of course I didn’t ask you to do those assignments.”

** **

The triumphant look on Aziraphale’s face quickly dropped and suddenly he looked affronted and maybe even a little offended. “And why ever not?”

** **

“They’re seductions,” Crowley said lamely, as if that explains everything. And honestly, that  _ should _ explain everything.

** **

Aziraphale is not the picture perfect angel— never has been, honestly— but he’s not that far gone from the light. He at least always  _ tried _ to uphold Heaven’s ideals and to stay within his expected duties. It didn’t always work but he always had a good reason for crossing those lines when he did. But performing a seduction simply so Crowley didn’t have to wasn’t close to any line. It was miles and miles beyond the closest line. There was simply no way he’d be able to justify doing it, so Crowley had never asked. Not to mention the fact that Aziraphale would likely feel wildly uncomfortable with doing it and that could have put the entire arrangement in jeopardy. 

** **

(And yeah, putting the entire arrangement in jeopardy was bad because it meant Crowley might actually have to start doing his job. But it was worse because if the arrangement went down in flames, their friendship likely would have too and he wasn’t about to risk that.)

** **

“And?” There was a challenge in Aziraphale’s gaze now. His jaw was set in a firm line, his blue eyes alert and laser focused. 

** **

“And?” Crowley spluttered, finally setting his glass back on the table.  He stared at Aziraphale for a moment, lost for a response. Finally, after an incredibly long moment of holding each other's gazes, Crowley did the only thing he could think of— repeated himself.  “Angel, they’re  _ seductions _ .”

** **

“As a matter of fact” Aziraphale’s face had gone almost stern and he looked as if he were trying not to cross his arms petulantly. Crowley almost couldn’t believe his eyes. And he  _ certainly _ couldn’t believe his ears as Aziraphale finished that thought. “I am perfectly capable of being seductive.”

** **

And yeah, that was true. Heavens above was that ever true. Crowley was constantly finding every small thing Aziraphale did attractive. His eyes were perpetually drawn to Aziraphale— to the way he moved, the curve of his throat, the plushness of his thighs. Every single thing about Aziraphale was seductive to Crowley. He was constantly filled to the brim with a burning ache, a desire to just press Aziraphale to the wall and claim him in front of the whole room. There was never a time when they were together that he didn’t want to simply ravish Aziraphale right then and there. He was more than aware of the fact that Aziraphale could be seductive. The man didn’t even have to try— he’d been seducing Crowley for nearly 6000 years at this point. 

** **

But Crowley wasn’t about to say that out loud. A lot may have changed since Armadidn’t, but not  _ that _ . Aziraphale had spent all 6000 of those years drawing a clear line between the two of them, separating them definitely and permanently, no matter how much Crowley disliked it. And some things even the end of the world couldn’t change. Like the fact that Crowley was not about to cross lines and risk their friendship.

** **

The end of the world also couldn’t change the fact that Crowley was a stubborn bastard, though. So he raised an eyebrow in response to Aziraphale, his lips curving up into a smirk. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

** **

He expected Aziraphale to say no. To bluster and insist that he hardly needed to prove anything— especially now that the only side they have is their own. Now that there’s no risk of Crowley ever asking him to perform a seduction, he has no real reason to prove that he could do one. So Crowley was floored when Aziraphale responded with all the confidence in the world, “Okay, how?”

** **

It only takes his mind a moment to come up with an idea, but when it does, he hates it. Still, he started this so he certainly can’t be the one to back down from it. “Seduce someone in this restaurant. Pick anyone you’d like, get them to go home with you. You win if you get them between your sheets.”

** **

The words nearly catch in Crowley’s throat as he says them. Partially because— dear god— he’s talking to  _ Aziraphale _ about  _ sex _ . If there were two things in his life he assumed would never ever ever go together, those were them. And yet here he is, trying to convince Aziraphale to seduce a random restaurant patron. The second reason, though, that he does his best to ignore, is jealousy. He’s already wildly jealous of whoever Aziraphale is going to pick and he’s doing his best to force his mind not to play through the images in his head. Normally when he and Aziraphale make bets or challenges of any sort, the other one is there to ensure they follow through. But not this time. Crowley wouldn’t be able to watch Aziraphale press another person to the bed. He wouldn’t be able to handle the way Aziraphale’s hands gently caressed them, the soft things he would undoubtedly murmur. Because, in Crowley’s mind, it should be  _ him _ . And sure, he’s a demon and his entire life was essentially meant to be a punishment but that’s too harsh of a punishment, even for a demon. 

** **

There’s a moment of silence between them and Aziraphale looks contemplative. He looks like he is considering his choices and Crowley thinks, one more fleeting time, that he is going to back out. But he doesn’t. Instead, Aziraphale scoots his chair as closely as he can to Crowley’s, his hand immediately finding Crowley’s leg and gripping just above his knee and he leaned in to whisper, “Okay.”

** **

All at once, Crowley is too hot. Aziraphale’s hand is still low on his thigh, but it’s migrating upwards. And it’s slotted between his two legs, firm against the inner thigh of his right leg and feather light against his left. He feels like he’s about to combust into hell’s flames on the spot, but he refuses to let it show. He’s spent 6000 years putting on a controlled front, he’s not about to let it crumble at the first touch from Aziraphale. “Angel, what are you doing?”

** **

It’s remarkable how steady his voice comes out. He almost achieves his normal nonchalance, in fact. But his lackluster response does nothing to deter Aziraphale, who grins almost wickedly in response, leaning closer again so Crowley can feel the breath of his words along his ear and neck. “You said I could choose anyone in this restaurant. So I’ve chosen you, dear boy.”

** **

“Me?” Crowley repeats in disbelief. As if Aziraphale’s hand that’s slowly working its way up his thigh isn’t proof enough. “You’re going to seduce  _ me? _ The  _ demon? _ The one who has been performing seductions for six-thousand years?”

** **

“I do believe that’s what I said, yes.” Aziraphale murmured in his ear, “Or were you a little too distracted to hear me?”

** **

All the wine Crowley had drank that evening seemed to disappear from his system all at once. He’d heard of sobering moments before but never truly experienced one. He had the ability to just miracle his drunkenness away when he needed or wanted to, so he’d never had the opportunity for one to happen naturally. But suddenly here he was, stone cold sober simply because they were in a restaurant and Aziraphale’s hand was dangerously high up on his inner thigh, his lips still at the shell of Crowley’s ear. And for  _ somebody’s  _ sake, Aziraphale did  _ not _ need to be letting out those breathy little pants right next to Crowley’s ear. He did not need to be making the little hums of approval whenever he moved his hand and Crowley startled. 

** **

But he was. He was doing all of that and more. And damn it all to hell, Crowley’s body was helpless not to react to it. 

** **

But Crowley was as proud of a bastard as he was stubborn, and he wasn’t about to lose like this. So he reached over and grabbed Aziraphale’s other hand, bringing it over and pressing it firmly against the top of his other thigh. Aziraphale allowed himself to be moved, but the way his eyes widened betrayed his surprise. Crowley leaned in, brushing his cheek against Aziraphale’s jaw as he murmured, “It’s going to take more than that to seduce me, Angel.”

** **

“Oh,” Aziraphale closed the small distance between them and pressed his lips to the corner of Crowley’s jaw. “I hope so. There’s so much more I’d like to do, it’d be a shame for it to be over already.”

** **

A jolt goes right to Crowley’s heart at the words (and maybe a secondary jolt goes a little further south than that, too). He swallows against a suddenly dry throat and licks his lips for lack of a better way to respond. His entire being is essentially vibrating with desire, but he’s not about to go down now. “Yeah?” He murmurs back, his own hand reaching out to massage up Aziraphale’s thigh. “Like what?”

** **

Aziraphale stills next to him but doesn’t pull away. He looks, briefly, fleetingly, like he might’ve bitten off more than he can chew. Crowley assumes he has— he  _ must _ have. Aziraphale, as far as Crowley knew, had  _ never _ seduced a single person. On all accounts, it was probably best if it ended here. If Aziraphale admitted that Crowley had called his bluff and backed off and they could go back to the bookshop and get properly drunk this time. It was probably best for Crowley’s heart— even if his heart didn’t seem to agree.

** **

Because as much as he knew this was just Aziraphale being stubborn and trying to prove a point, he was a desperate man and would take anything he could get. Even if it was fake. Even if it meant he’d find himself more alone than ever at the end, heart a shattered heap at the foot of his bed. Because for those few minutes— those blissful, exquisite,  _ passionate _ moments— he wouldn’t be alone. He’d be so wholly enveloped by Aziraphale that he’d be able to forget everything else. And those moments, those brief, fragile moments would be worth the centuries of heartbreak that would follow.

** **

“Like what, Angel?” Crowley goaded quietly, adjusting his chair so they were facing each other more directly. They were still seated in the middle of the fanciest restaurant in town and eyes were starting to wander their way, but Crowley couldn’t care any less. He was fairly certain Aziraphale would care when he noticed, though. He’d be  _ absolutely certain _ that Aziraphale would care if he hadn’t just shocked Crowley multiple times in a row and turned his whole perception upside down. Aziraphale was still frozen next to him and a bitter smile curled at Crowley’s lips because he realized he’d won. “You want to press me up against the wall and have your way with me?” 

** **

He leans closer, ready to go on, but Aziraphale seems to startle himself back to attention. His hands resume their movements all at once, slipping up Crowley’s thighs and bracing themselves against his hips. His response is ragged, his breathing equally so, but he doesn’t seem to notice. And as he replies, Crowley realizes that he may not have won after all. “Yes.”

** **

“You want to…” Crowley wills his breath not to hitch in his throat as he tries to press further. He must be close. Aziraphale must be on the verge of breaking. He might not be victorious yet but he’s  _ going to be _ .  “Bend me over this table right here?”

** **

“Yes,” Aziraphale closes his eyes, his grip on Crowley’s hips bruisingly tight as he drops his head down onto Crowley’s shoulder.

** **

“Deflower me and make me yours?”

** **

“Always mine,” Aziraphale pants quietly against his shoulder. His breath is warm and his words are raw, as if he’s ripping off a piece of his soul and handing it over to Crowley— trusting him with the barest, most exposed truth of his being.

** **

And in that moment, Crowley doesn’t give a single damn about the challenge. He’ll gladly lose. He’ll stand up and announce it to the entire restaurant, to the whole goddamned  _ world _ without any hesitation. He’s ready to pop out of his seat and drag the Angel back to the bookshop, miracling away the bill before he even hits the door, when a thought paralyzes him. This moment is  _ too  _ perfect. Aziraphale is telling Crowley everything he’s ever wanted to hear. It has to be an act. He reminds himself again that this is just Aziraphale rising to a challenge. He knew it from the moment it started but had foolishly let himself get carried away in the moment. He’d let his heart hope— the one thing he’d been refusing it for 6000 years.

** **

With a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sad sigh, he pulled his hands back and settled them in his own lap, meeting Aziraphale’s eyes once he raised his head back up. “Alright, Angel.” He said sullenly, trying desperately to make it sound like he wasn’t moping. “You’ve proven your point— you could’ve done those seductions years ago. I apologize from keeping them from you but none of that matters now anyways so there’s no need to continue.”

** **

“Oh, no, my dear,” Aziraphale pulls his hands back into his own lap, but it doesn’t come across as a resignation. He straightens his coat and smooths down his hair, but that confident, borderline wicked smile from earlier is back on his lips. “There absolutely is a reason to continue. Did you not listen to what I said?”

** **

“I listened very clearly, Angel,” Crowley sighed and lifted his drink back up to his mouth, downing the remaining half of the glass in one gulp. “That’s why I’m admitting defeat.”

** **

But as it turns out,  _ Aziraphale _ is the one who isn’t listening. Instead, he’s got his finger in the air, flagging down the waiter and requesting the check. Crowley watches absently, his head still reeling from the entire events that just unfolded. Aziraphale was never one to rush out of a restaurant, especially not when he hasn’t eaten dessert yet. But he pays the waiter the moment the man arrives with the check, insisting that he keep the rest. And then all at once, Aziraphale is standing, reaching a hand out to Crowley and tugging him to his feet as well. And Crowley feels drunk all over again but he knows it isn’t the alcohol.

** **

It’s the wild look in Aziraphale’s eyes. It’s the way Aziraphale grips his hand tightly, guiding him towards the entrance with an urgency he hasn’t seen since Armadidn’t. He feels something stronger than drunk— though he can’t quite come up with a word to describe it— as Aziraphale’s hand slips out of his and travels to the small of his back instead, firm and warm against him. And then, as they’re pushing through the door and heading out into the cool evening air, his hand is drifting even lower, lower,  _ lower. _

** **

“Angel, what the—” Crowley turns to say, fully perplexed, but not unpleasantly so. 

** **

But, instead of getting through his question, he finds himself suddenly backed up against the brick wall of the building, Aziraphale a firm line against his front, one hand fisted in his jacket and the other pressed against the wall next to his head. There’s a brief flashback of their time at the old birthing hospital and Crowley has absolutely no idea how this is about to go. 

** **

“What the heaven are you  _ doing _ ?” Crowley finally grinds out, reaching up to fist his own hands in Aziraphale’s jacket, pulling him even closer until their chests were flush. “I already said the bet is over with, you win. This is— this is—” too many words come to mind for him to get one of them out clearly.

** **

“This isn’t a bet,” Is all Aziraphale says before he’s kissing Crowley, pressing his whole body against him and pinning him sufficiently to the wall.

** **

Someone whistles as they walk by, making kissing sounds while laughing and Crowley, despite the haze in his brain, manages to snap his fingers and tie the guy’s shoes together before he goes. And then his hands are up in Aziraphale’s hair, or snaking under his jacket, clawing at his back. And Aziraphale is gripping his hips so tightly that it hurts— but in the best possible way. He pulls away from Crowley’s lips for a moment, only to meet his gaze and then dive back in. Crowley has no idea what he sees in Aziraphale’s gaze, can’t put a name to it, but he knows that he doesn’t want it to stop.

** **

He only pauses, finally taking in a breath, when Aziraphale’s hands creep behind him again, gripping handfulls of his ass and pulling him so tightly against him that Crowley has no doubt that he can  _ feel _ just how excited Crowley is.

** **

“Angel,” He pants suddenly, raggedly, with more pleasure than he’s felt in awhile. “We’re in public.”

** **

“Yes,” Aziraphale agrees, kissing down Crowley’s jaw and then back up to his ear, still holding their hips flush together, occasionally grinding Crowley into the wall to punctuate his point. “You asked me if I wanted to press you up against the wall and have my way with you and I said yes, didn’t I?”

** **

“You—” Crowley swallows and he feels Aziraphale’s lips at his adam’s apple a moment later. “You were serious? You weren’t just saying that for the bet?”

** **

“I  _ told you _ ,” Aziraphale’s tone is impatient, almost as urgent as his hands. “There isn’t any bet.”

** **

“Except that there  _ is.” _ It hurts to say, but Crowley knows it needs to be said. This whole thing began with a bet and he can’t just let that go. He  _ wants to _ , but he  _ can’t _ . “None of this would be happening if it weren’t for the bet.”

** **

Aziraphale makes a noise that’s somewhere between frustrated and wounded, finally pulling back completely and releasing Crowley. He’s thankful for the wall behind him because it’s the only thing holding him up after Aziraphale lets go of him. All at once he feels unmoored and his natural reaction is to reach out for Aziraphale. It’s been his natural reaction for 6000 years— always looking to Aziraphale for comfort, guidance or companionship. He resists, shoving his hands deeply in his pockets and hunching his shoulders so he doesn’t have to look Aziraphale in the face.

** **

If he had thought watching Aziraphale seduce some random human was going to be painful, he was wrong. Because  _ this _ was painful. Having everything he wanted pressed up against him and then ripped away all at once was painful. Having Aziraphale look at him, perplexed and feral at the same time, as if he isn’t sure what to do with himself, is painful. Everything about this moment is painful. And sure, he knew it was going to hurt, but he didn’t think it was going to hurt  _ like this _ .

** **

“Crowley—”

** **

“No, Angel.” The drunken feeling isn’t gone, but now it’s mingled with something else. A sort of desperation he hasn’t felt in a long time flares inside of him, warring with the desire and the heartbreak, making him feel almost hysterical. “This was a terrible idea. I shouldn’t have challenged you and I’m sorry. I’m  _ sorry, _ okay? But I can’t do this. I can’t—” He chokes on his words, still refusing to look up into Aziraphale’s face. “It’ll mean too much.”

** **

Aziraphale is touching him again, his hand gentle as it cradles Crowley’s cheek. And his blue eyes are no longer wild, they’re calm, almost hurt. “Crowley,” He says again, more firmly this time and Crowley can’t stop himself from meeting his gaze finally. “My dear—” Aziraphale makes a strangled noise again, as if he can’t decide what to say or how to say it.

** **

The tension builds between them in the air. Crowley is still leaning against the brick wall of the outside of the building and people are still milling past them as the night continues on. The world continues to move forward, time ticking perpetually on, unbothered by the way Crowley was unraveling at the seams, burning from the inside out. He felt as if he were crumbling to dust, one gentle breeze away from ceasing to exist entirely. Perhaps that would be preferable, he thought bitterly as he waited for Aziraphale to gather his words.

** **

“Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated again before taking his hand away and looking forlornly at the ground. “I’m so sorry. I should have considered your feelings. I should have thought about the fact that you don’t want this—”

** **

Whatever dam Crowley had been building for 6000 years broke in one fell swoop and he reached up to catch Aziraphale’s wrist, a tidal wave of unsaid things overcoming him. “ _ Don’t _ want this? For hea— where have you been for our entire lives, Aziraphale?” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but there was a relief that came with finally saying them. “Don’t want this? I’ve heard you say a lot of ridiculous things in six-thousand years, but nothing as stupid as this. This is  _ everything _ I want, Angel. I want all of this and more. I’ll take anything you give me but just know—” It hurts. It hurts so bad. Everything is on fire. “It’s going to break me in the end. When it means nothing to you— it’ll destroy me.”

** **

A cool breeze blows by, lifting Crowley’s hair off of his forehead and bringing him a little closer to deteriorating completely. He’d finally done it— the one thing he’d swore he’d never do. He’d confessed his darkest secret to Aziraphale, put it all out in the open. This was the moment he’d feared for so many centuries— the moment where Aziraphale was left to look at his emotions, to sort through them, judge them, and toss aside the ones he didn’t like. 

** **

But Aziraphale doesn’t do that. He doesn’t sift through Crowley’s emotions, doesn’t scrutinize his secret deciding which parts to take. He accepts all of it at once, wholly and completely, without any hesitation. The same way he had accepted Crowley back in the garden of Eden. The same way he’d continued to accept Crowley every single year after that, choosing to see and believe in the best parts. Knowing that despite it all, there was someone worth loving underneath. 

** **

Instead of saying anything back, Aziraphale kisses Crowley again. Slow and tender this time, his hands very gentle, his movements less urgent. Crowley, despite his best efforts, feels himself open up under Aziraphale, feels himself demonstrate a level of vulnerability he’s never shown to anybody, not even Aziraphale. And Aziraphale— good, wonderful, kind-hearted Aziraphale— doesn’t take advantage of that. He recognizes the gift he’s being given and he handles it delicately, taking it within himself and giving it a home, nurturing it.

** **

Finally they separate again and Aziraphale looks somewhere between giddy and sappy and it’s an expression that only he could ever pull off properly. “My love,” he breathes, resting his forehead against Crowley’s, despite their height difference. “It’s not a bet because it means everything to me. This was a terrible way for me to go about it, I must admit. But that doesn’t change the significance or the fact that I love you so terribly.”

** **

“You—?”

** **

“Love you?” Aziraphale smiles, stepping back and taking Crowley’s hand in his own. “With my whole heart.”

** **

“You’re an angel, you love everything.” Crowley pushes off the brick wall  _ finally _ , relieved to find out that his legs are willing to hold him after all. He feels as if he’s cracking open— like he’s already been cracked open, exposed completely— and the demonic nature in him is scrambling to get it back under control. 

** **

“Yes, but I love you most of all.” Aziraphale looks serene as he says it, as if he’s finally found peace. It’s an expression that Crowley has been wanting to see on him for the last 11 years at least. 

** **

Still, Crowley can’t quite wrap his brain around everything that has happened since Armadidn’t. Can’t wrap his brain around the fact the the world was ending and then it wasn’t. That Aziraphale was trying to seduce him— hand dangerously far up his thigh— and then he was confessing his love. Whiplash was a mild form of what Crowley was feeling at the moment. “This is…”

** **

“A lot, I’m sure,” Aziraphale nodded in understanding. “As I said, I shouldn’t have taken this route. It was reckless and irresponsible and I’m sorry. It’s just that— the opportunity presented itself so perfectly and I didn’t want to waste it. But I should have. I— I should stop—”

** **

“ _ Angel, _ ” Crowley cut in, finally finding his voice again. “I don’t know a lot of things right now but I do know this: I don’t want you to stop.”

** **

“You don’t?” 

** **

It turns out that a lot of miscommunications can happen in 6000 years. Crowley has recognized plenty of them as time has gone by, but always in hindsight. This is the first time he sees the possibility of it before it happens, the first time he knows he has a chance to stop one in its tracks. “I don’t,” He confirms. “We can talk about all of this later, we can figure out how it’s going to work. But for now you only need to be sure of two things: I’m in love with you and you still haven’t seduced me.”

** **

A smile spreads slowly across Aziraphale’s lips as he realizes what’s been said and suddenly his smile turns teasing, “Oh, no, dear boy?”

** **

“No,” Crowley steps around Aziraphale, dragging the keys to his bentley out of his pocket and heading for the car. “I’m afraid I’m distinctly not seduced. But that’s alright, I’m willing to give you a second chance, if you’d like.”

** **

“That’s very kind of you,” Aziraphale followed Crowley, sliding into the passenger seat of the bentley and settling himself in comfortably.

** **

The ride to the bookshop was quicker than usual which was impressive because Crowley typically already pushed the limits when driving. But it turned out that Aziraphale’s hand on his upper thigh and lips on his neck spurred him to break a few more laws than usual. In what felt like the blink of an eye, Crowley was slamming on the breaks and Aziraphale was clinging to him, trying desperately to not get thrown away from him. Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s love in very press of his lips or squeeze of his fingertips. He could hear the raw emotions, the realness of it all, in the way Aziraphale breathed unevenly, in the way he murmured Crowley’s name like he was tasting it for the first time. 

** **

They stumbled out of the car, crashing together on the sidewalk the way they always did— magnets drawn to each other, over and over again, incapable of staying apart. This time when they met, it was in a brand new dance, one that they fell perfectly into step with, despite having never practiced it before. Their lips met, fingers scrambling for purchase anywhere they could find it. Crowley held onto Aziraphale, stepping forward as he stepped backwards, stumbling as the door opened behind Aziraphale’s back and they tumbled into the entryway of the bookshop. Aziraphale’s back hit a bookshelf and Crowley reached around him to grip tightly onto it, steadying them both, surprised to feel Aziraphale huff out a laugh underneath him.

** **

“Which one of us is supposed to be doing the seduction?” Aziraphale asked, his hands trailing gently down Crowley’s chest.

** **

“I‘m sorry,” Crowley muttered between kisses, “old demon habit.” He let go of Aziraphale completely, stepping past him and heading through the rows of books towards the back room. He could hear Aziraphale’s footsteps behind him, slow and leisurely, and he could practically feel Aziraphale’s gaze on his hips, appreciating the way they moved. Once he reached the back, he plopped down onto the couch, throwing one leg over the back and leveling Aziraphale with his best smolder. “Please, continue. I won’t interrupt.”

** **

“Do you know,” Aziraphale says as he crosses the room, only the slight downward tilt of his lips betraying his nerves. He throws a leg over Crowley, sliding over his hips in one graceful movement and Crowley loves the pressure, even if he feels like this is a dream he’s going to wake up from any moment. “How long I’ve wanted to do this?”

** **

“Tell me,” Crowley murmurs in response, reaching up to gently pull Aziraphale down for a kiss. “You’re going to have to spell it all out for me, Angel. Or else I’ll remain convinced this is a dream.”

** **

Aziraphale allows himself to be pulled in for the kiss, planting his hands on Crowley’s chest to stabilize. “Do you dream of me?”

** **

“Oh,” Crowley can’t help the flirtatious lilt to his voice, can’t stop himself from grinning at the look on Aziraphale’s face. “All the time.”

** **

The smirk is wiped right off his face, however, as soon as Aziraphale slides a hand down his chest, across his stomach and all the way to the bulge in his pants, “Do your dreams feel like this?”

** **

“No,” Crowley admits, trying his best to hold it together. It doesn’t work, not really.

** **

The way Aziraphale rubs his hands across the front of Crowley’s crotch should be illegal and he’s suddenly worried that he won’t even last if they go any further than this. He’s not sure Hell would be glad to see him if he were discorporated— they didn’t really end on good terms, after all— but he’s willing to find out. Aziraphale makes a pleased sound as he presses a little harder and Crowley can’t stifle the low groan that pulls from the back of his throat. He lets his head fall back against the arm of the couch, keeping his eyes on Aziraphale as the angel works with his other hand to undo the buttons on Crowley’s vest.

** **

Once they’re successfully undone, Aziraphale pushes his shirt up, exposing the lines of his abdomen and splays his fingers there, his eyes wide in what looks like awestruck wonder. “You are so…  _ divine _ .”

** **

“I don’t think that’s—” Crowley goes to correct him, to tell him that divine is perhaps the worst word to use to describe a demon, but the words are stolen from him as Aziraphale shifts down, his lips finding the skin just above the waistband of Crowley’s pants.

** **

All coherent thought is stolen from him immediately after when Aziraphale’s tongue joins in, lapping at the skin and just dipping below said waistband. Crowley can’t stop himself from arching off the couch, pressing his hips closer to Aziraphale. He’s helpless to do anything other than moan low and long, his hands seeking purchase on anything to help him feel grounded. Aziraphale’s smile is easy to feel as he kisses Crowley’s skin again, his hand beginning to fiddle with the button on his pants.

** **

Instinctively, Crowley raises a hand, his fingers poised to snap their clothes away, but Aziraphale stops him by reaching up and catching his hand, threading their fingers together and pinning it to the couch by his side. “I want to do this the human way,”

** **

Feeling a wave of fondness overtake him, Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand back, taking his other one to thread it into the hair at the nape of Aziraphale’s neck and pull him back up to his lips. They met, their mouths fitting together perfectly and Crowley tried not to combust at the sound of the content sigh Aziraphale let out. As they continued to kiss, Crowley freed his hands and made surprisingly quick work of Aziraphale’s buttons. He couldn’t and wouldn’t deny that his hands were trembling, but they functioned still the same.

** **

Aziraphale pushed Crowley’s shirt up further, finally leaning down and supporting his full weight on Crowley and suddenly they were skin to skin, bare chest to bare chest. And Crowley was certain that he was going to combust. He didn’t know when, but the fire was building inside of him and Aziraphale was stoking it more with every kiss, every touch, every breathless moan. It was only a matter of time before Crowley burst into flame entirely and by the looks of it, he was going to bring Aziraphale down with him.

** **

“Crowley,” Aziraphale all but groaned, dropping his head back onto Crowley’s shoulder and letting out a shuddering breath against his neck. “Dear, I— I’m trying to take this at a reasonable pace, but I fear I—”

** **

“Don’t,” Crowley rasps, “Don’t go gently on me, Angel. I’ve waited long enough for this. And if this is all I’m ever going to get, I want to— I want to remember it.”

** **

“Oh, you’re going to remember it,” Aziraphale says with an uncommon air of confidence about him. There’s a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there a moment before and Crowley knows it’s from his comment— from his implication that Aziraphale is just going to toss him aside once this is over. He visibly watches Aziraphale bite back whatever he wants to say on that and knows, invariably, that it’s going to come back up when this is all over. “But I  _ am _ going to go gently on you. Oh, my dear, I’m going to unravel you at the seams.”

** **

Crowley swallows against the lump that’s suddenly in his throat, noticing all at once just how tight his pants feel, even with Aziraphale having undone the button and the zipper. “Well, Angel, you can consider me properly seduced.”

** **

The answering smile he receives is blindingly bright. Crowley is just about to comment on it when Aziraphale begins to make good on his promise. He lifts himself up above Crowley and begins shucking off his own clothing, holding Crowley’s eye contact the entire time. He does it slowly at first, sliding his jacket off of his shoulders. It’s thrilling on its own, but it becomes even more thrilling to Crowley when Aziraphale just leaves his jacket in a heap on the ground, opting to add his vest and shirt to it instead of hanging them up properly. Once he’s appropriately disrobed on the top, he scoots back a little, making a very obvious point of dragging his ass across Crowley’s body and settling it pointedly atop Crowley’s crotch. 

** **

Crowley bites his lip, attempting to stifle the groan that’s building up inside of him. He wants to say something— he has no idea what, but  _ something _ — but he can’t find any words. He can’t do anything other than watch and oblige as Aziraphale pulls him up into a sitting position, pressing their chests together as they kiss. Without abandon, Aziraphale pushes Crowley’s jacket and vest to the ground, too, only separating their lips long enough to pull his shirt over his head. Crowley wastes no time, letting his hands roam the expanse of skin that has now been bared to him.

** **

He’d be lying to say he’d never fantasized about this, to say that he’d never stayed up late pleasuring himself with Aziraphale’s name on his lips. He’d wanted this for so long that he’d imagined it in every way possible. And somehow—  _ somehow _ — this is better than his wildest imaginations. There was simply no way his imagination could mimic the way Aziraphale gasped as Crowley dipped his hands into the back of Aziraphale’s pants, squeezing his ass. He could have never predicted the way it felt to have Aziraphale moan his name with his lips pressed against Crowley’s neck, his own hands fisted in Crowley’s hair. And he absolutely, definitely could not have ever imagined what it felt like when Aziraphale finally made his way past Crowley’s neck, kissing down his torso, taking the time to caress each nipple with his fingers while he sucked a series of bruises along Crowley’s ribs.

** **

Turned on wasn’t even strong enough to describe how Crowley felt. He was positively  _ aching _ , his entire being alight with desire. He wanted to be closer, to absorb Aziraphale into him and give him a home inside his heart. But as Aziraphale hummed against him, his hands pinning Crowley’s hips to the couch, he realized that he’d already done that. Aziraphale’d had a home in Crowley’s heart for the last 6000 years already. In fact, he was one of very, very few things that were allowed to live inside Crowley’s heart and he certainly had the biggest part of it.

** **

“Angel,” Crowley gasped as Aziraphale began to slide his pants down. Aziraphale paused, looking up at him. His hair was messy, disheveled from the way Crowley had been running his fingers through it, and his blue eyes were blown wide with desire. But still, he paused, and he met Crowley’s gaze and he waited. It was clear— so painfully, brutally clear then— that Aziraphale loved him. That Aziraphale would do anything for him. Crowley could see Aziraphale’s own boner in his pants, could see the desire written into every line in his expression, but he had no doubt that Aziraphale would stop if he asked him to. “I love you. I’m so in love with you. And I just— I needed you to know before we, y’know,” he gestured to the air between them, “did this.”

** **

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale reached up to tenderly stroke his cheek again. And damn it all, it was the softest, the  _ fondest _ Crowley had ever heard Aziraphale. And he’d listened to the angel gush about different things for 6000  _ goddamn years. _ He’d heard Aziraphale be fond of many things in that time, but never had he sounded like this. Never had his expression been so soft. 

** **

“Ngk, Angel, you can’t say my name like that,” He groaned, kissing Aziraphale before the man could protest. 

** **

When they broke apart again, Aziraphale was grinning and his grin remained as he slipped down Crowley’s body, “I do believe I promised to pull you apart at the seams, did I not? That’s just a part of it, my love.” He made quick work of Crowley’s pants, tossing them off the couch and shuffling further down so that he could press a hand along the inside of both of Crowley’s thighs. “And this is also part of it.”

** **

Suddenly, Aziraphale was kissing the inside of his thighs, pushing the legs of his boxers up higher so he could reach even more sensitive flesh. And Crowley was writhing underneath him, the pressure inside of him so strong he could barely handle it. He wanted to come, to allow the pressure to build until he burst with it. But he also wanted it to last forever, to never stop feeling the way Aziraphale spread his thighs further apart so he could fit his body snugly between Crowley’s legs. He never ever ever wanted to stop having Aziraphale’s lips on his cock through his boxers, the feeling hot and moist and absolutely  _ maddening _ in the best possible way. He wanted to lay there, moaning Aziraphale’s name on continuous loop until his voice gave out. 

** **

“My dear,” Aziraphale murmured after sucking a particularly bruising mark onto the inside of Crowley’s thigh, “How would you like this?”

** **

“I thought this was your show, Angel,” Crowley panted in response, discarding his sunglasses onto the ground next to them so he could  _ really _ see Aziraphale’s expression— so Aziraphale could really see his. Because he wanted Aziraphale to see it, to see the vulnerability and the love etched into his features. “You get to decide. I’ll take anything you give me, remember?”

** **

“And I’d certainly like to give it to you,” Aziraphale murmurs, a blush staining his cheeks and Crowley choked on his own spit at the words. “But first I want to pleasure you. I— I— well, frankly, I’d like you to come for me, Crowley.”

** **

“For heaven’s sake, Angel,” Crowley says without even flinching at his use of the words, “I’m going to come right now if you keep talking like that. When did you get such a filthy mouth anyways?”

** **

“Right now, I believe.” Aziraphale smiled and kissed him tenderly on the lips while his hands finally freed Crowley from his boxers, pulling them as far down as he could before grasping Crowley’s cock in his hand and giving it a few good tugs.

** **

“Fucking heaven above,” Crowley moans into Aziraphale’s mouth, gripping onto his upper arms for dear life. “Have you ever—?”

** **

“Done this before?” Aziraphale finishes for him and Crowley can hear the smug satisfaction in his voice. “I have not. I’m learning as I go. How would you say I’m doing?”

** **

“You know, Angel, Pride is one of the seven deadly sins.” Crowley barely got the words out around the strangled noises he was making as Aziraphale continued to stroke his dick, slow and steady with just the perfect amount of pressure.

** **

“So is lust,” Aziraphale pointed out, biting back a bigger grin, “Go big or go home, isn’t that what the humans say?”

** **

“I can’t—  _ NGK _ ” Aziraphale lowered his head, slipping his mouth around Crowley’s cock and sucking at the exact moment Crowley had gone to retort. Whatever he’d been about to say was chased out of his mind by the pleasure that came from the wetness of Aziraphale’s mouth. “Angel— hah— “

** **

Aziraphale didn’t pull away right away. He took his time, holding Crowley’s hips down and slowly bobbing up and down, swirling his tongue around Crowley’s dick and across the slit on the top. Crowley could feel himself unraveling underneath Aziraphale, could feel the pressure building up inside of him, white-hot and ready to be released. He was getting closer, closer,  _ closer _ , just a moment away from finally giving in when Aziraphale pulled away. He sat up, taking in a few uneven breaths and Crowley nearly lost it at the realization that it was cock that had left Aziraphale breathless.

** **

“I want to give it to you,” Aizraphale repeated his words from earlier, snapping his fingers. “But first I want to ride you.”

** **

With no further explanation, Aziraphale rose up onto his knees and shuffled forward, his legs barely fitting on either side of Crowley. Briefly, Crowley was thankful he had insisted that Aziraphale get a deeper couch all those years ago. At the time he’d just been thinking about his comfort during naps but it was certainly coming in handy now. Crowley was just about to open his mouth, to tell Aziraphale that there were steps they still needed to take— he needed to  _ prepare _ but Aziraphale sunk down in one fluid motion right onto Crowley’s cock.

** **

And as he shimmied his way down, throwing his head back and moaning loud and clear for Crowley to hear, he realized exactly what Aziraphale’s snap had been. Because Aziraphale was slicked up and ready to go, tight but relaxed around Crowley as he finally sunk all the way down and was flush with Crowley. “I thought you wanted to do this the human way, Angel?” he teased.

** **

“Just that part,” Aziraphale murmured. “Just— hahhh—” he shifted his hips and Crowley threw himself back into the couch, gripping wildly at those hips in an attempt to ground himself.

** **

It didn’t work.

** **

He wasn’t sure anything would work, honestly. The fire that Aziraphale had been stoking in him was officially raging out of control and Crowley knew he couldn’t stop it. “Angel, I— I want to—”

** **

“Yes, Crowley, please.” Aziraphale pleaded, rising up onto his knees again and placing his hands over top of Crowley’s on his hips. “ _ Fuck me _ .”

** **

Crowley made a strangled cry, shocked and exhilarated by Aziraphale’s foul language at the same time. Without any hesitation, he snapped his hips up, yanking Aziraphale’s down at the same moment and burying himself deep within Aziraphale who pitched himself forward, catching himself with his hands on Crowley’s chest and let out a cry full of so much ecstasy that it should also be illegal.

** **

“ _ Fuck, Aziraphale, _ ” Crowley moved his hands down, gripping Aziraphale’s thighs as the angel rose up and sunk back down again on his own, angling his hips in different directions each time until the end of Crowley’s cock hit the sweet spot and left Aziraphale screaming. As it turned out, Aziraphale made  _ a lot _ of noises that should be illegal. They started a pace that was frantic but full of passion and utterly perfect. It was sloppy and uneven and Crowley could feel himself bordering on the edge of his orgasm in no time. Normally he’d tried to hold out, to keep the moment going forever, but he knew that this wasn’t going to be the end. In fact, this was just the beginning. So, with a moan that sounded suspiciously like Aziraphale’s name, Crowley buried himself inside Aziraphale one last time and let himself go.

** **

Lost in the pleasure and panting heavily, Crowley didn’t notice when Aziraphale snapped his fingers again. He  _ did _ notice the way his own entrance was suddenly slicked up and open though, and the anticipation grew in him almost instantly, He was still sensitive, the adrenaline still pumping, as Aziraphale lifted gently off of him, leaning down to kiss the top of each thigh as he resituated himself. Once he was there, he looked up to meet Crowley’s gaze, a hand pressing each thigh open wider. In his gaze there was an unspoken question, seeking permission. Crowley nodded at him, barely able to keep his eyes open as the waves of pleasure still wracked through him and certainly incapable of forming full sentences.

** **

Still, it was enough and Aziraphale didn’t hesitate to bury himself inside Crowley in one smooth motion. “My  _ dear _ ,” Aziraphale gasped as he slipped all the way in. He opened his mouth as if intending to finish that thought with something else, but the only thing he did was make another one of those sinful noises.

** **

Just  _ one _ of his moans would’ve been enough to fuel Crowley’s fantasies for the next thousand years. It was like Aziraphale didn’t know what the sounds were doing to him, didn’t know the way Crowley was filing them away for later. Aziraphale was just giving them away freely, moaning as if this were the best thing to ever happen to him. If Crowley weren’t filled to the brim with pleasure— literally— he’d be overwhelmed by other emotions like tenderness and love. As it was, he could only focus on one thing at a time and that one thing was Aziraphale’s thick cock sliding in and out of him with a sort of expertise that Crowley would not expect from an amateur.

** **

But then again, it was Aziraphale he was talking about, and everything between them just  _ worked _ . It had always worked. Everything about them had always fit together perfectly, as if they were two halves of some greater whole. Neither one of them was fully good or bad— neither one of them could really exist without the other. And this felt right, felt symbolic, somehow, that he got to fill Aziraphale just as Aziraphale got to fill him. It felt like they were finally reaching the peak of what they were supposed to be.

** **

Crowley wrapped his legs around Aziraphale’s hips, pulling him in deeper with each thrust and angling his hips  _ just so _ in order to allow Aziraphale to hit that right spot every time. And then they were both crying out in pleasure, a jumble of bodies. Crowley wasn’t entirely sure where Aziraphale ended and he began and he didn’t honestly care. He didn’t  _ want _ to know because he didn’t want to ever be separated from Aziraphale. He never wanted to be separate being again.

** **

The frantic way Aziraphale was slamming into him mirrored Crowley’s own feelings and it made him smile around his gasps and groans. He could feel Aziraphale’s emotions flowing into him, could feel the way Aziraphale really felt. It filled him with love and contentedness. It made him feel complete and he didn’t think even the pleasure from his own orgasm that was still dying down could top this. 

** **

“ _ Crowley _ ” Aziraphale slowed his movements all at once, his hips jerking suddenly as he came inside Crowley. 

** **

Crowley’s head was thrown back, eyes glued shut and hands fisted in the fabric of the couch as he tried to catch his breath and wait for Aziraphale to finish. His own body was still full of pleasure, but he hadn’t gotten hard again. Aziraphale had just managed to prolong the length of his orgasm, each of his thrusts sending a new wave of pleasure through him. So they laid their together, limbs tangled, waiting out the throes of their orgasms together. 

** **

And finally, after some time— it could have been minutes, it could have been days— they finally pulled apart enough to look at each other and address what had just happened.

** **

“I love you,” Crowley said first, gently running his fingers along Aziraphale’s jaw. “And I’m not sorry that I never let you do a temptation in the past, The thought of you doing that to somebody else would have ended me.”

** **

Aziraphale’s smile was shocked but warm and it lit up his entire face. “I wouldn’t have wanted to do them. I have never wanted to do this with anyone other than you.”

** **

“Can I tell you a secret?” Crowley shifted onto his side, making room for Aziraphale to lay comfortably next to him. 

** **

They faced each other, arms draped over each other and Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s belly against his own. He loved it more than he could put into words. “Anything, my dear.”

** **

“I’ve never…” Crowley met Aziraphale’s gaze, “Done this before. Whenever I had to do a temptation, I would always switch a human into my place before it got too far. All I  _ really _ had to do was get the ball rolling. Because I never— I never wanted to either, if it wasn’t you.”

** **

Aziraphale’s breathless answer filled Crowley’s heart to the brim. “Really?”

** **

“Would I lie to you?”

** **

He expected Aziraphale to say yes, that he was a demon and lying was in his nature. It was the answer he always got whenever he asked that question. But, not for the first time tonight, Aziraphale surprised him, pressing a hand to his bare chest, right over his heart and saying, “No, you wouldn’t. And that’s one of the many reasons that I love you.”

** **

“Say it again,” Crowley murmured, leaning in to brush their lips together. 

** **

“Anthony J. Crowley,” The sound of his full name sent a shudder down Crowley’s spine. “I love you. More than anything else.”

** **

“More than sushi?” Aziraphale laughed quietly, pressing his hand more firmly over Crowley’s heart.

** **

“More than sushi,” He confirmed. “And that’s never going to change.” 


End file.
